


57. I miss the way things used to be.

by KittenKin



Series: Drabble Prompt Fills [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Drinking & Talking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenKin/pseuds/KittenKin
Summary: John is made to realize that Sherlock has changed over the years.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Drabble Prompt Fills [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605655
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	57. I miss the way things used to be.

The crackling logs are the only things to break the silence for a while, and then Sherlock sighs, bone-weary in a way that he can’t blame on receding case-and-chase adrenaline, the late hour, or the glass of whiskey fumes in his hand.

“I can’t change the past, John.”

His eyelids are drooping, but he still catches John’s surprised glance in his peripheral vision. Hadn’t expected a response, or had been expecting a much more cutting one, perhaps.

“If you could, though?” John prompts, and Sherlock closes his eyes, lets his head drop back. Too many thoughts - regrets, wounds, hope-corpses - weigh his skull down.

“May I inquire as to the point of this pointless exercise?” he tries to banter back.

“Dunno. Maybe…oh, maybe Mycroft’s re-installed some of his bugs and is listening, and has a magic wand hidden away somewhere, in his brolly…”

“Up his arse,” Sherlock mutters, and is rewarded with a chuckle.

“Or maybe I just want to get a peek in that big brain of yours,” John continues. “See what’s rattling around in there.”

“It’s messy. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I lived with _you_ just fine,” comes the retort.

“You don’t anymore.”

It slips out before he can think better of it, think at all, and he squinches his eyes a little harder. Oops. Not wanting to hear anything John may have to say about _that_ , Sherlock forces more words out, takes up the available space in which to speak.

“I’d change that,” he announces, waving a hand limply about. “If I could. I’d just…skip the whole game. Not even rig it; just…to hell with gamesmanship; I’d ask Mycroft to disappear Moriarty for me.”

He doesn’t need to open his eyes; he can imagine John’s disbelieving expression just fine.

“You’d…” John doesn’t seem to know what to say for a minute, and Sherlock feels the seconds passing like small weights settling on his body, pressing him deeper into the chair, further into the heavy somnolence that comes after a case is closed. The warmth from the fireplace washes over him like he’s sinking into a hot bath, and the fluttering of the flames keeps the silence comforting instead of oppressive.

After a while, there’s a soft murmur nearby, warm and familiar. He wants to lean toward it but his body is too heavy.

“I thought you loved the…the game, the puzzle. Having a worthy adversary and all that.”

“I used to,” Sherlock agrees. It’s funny; it’s a little easier to be honest with his eyes closed. He’s not frantically trying to observe and predict and control the conversation. He’s just…drifting on the current, and the words well up in a slow, sure surge from his chest and spill out of his mouth. “After a while it was just an excuse.”

“Excuse for what?”

“Make John smile. Call me brilliant.”

“…Sherlock?”

“Mm?”

“…nothing. Sleep well.”

“Mm.”


End file.
